


The Bait

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: First Times, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair gets caught, sock in hand, and has to fess up to his compulsive love of cotton.<br/>This story is a sequel to no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bait

## The Bait

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Title: The Bait 1/1  
Author: Grey  
E-mail: Grey853@aol.com  
Rating: NC-17  
Pairing: J/B and the socks  
Status: New, complete  
Date: May 16, 1998  
Archive: Yes to both  
Archive author: Yes  
Archive email: Grey853@aol.com  
Series/sequel: Nope, just silly stuff  
Other Website: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own them, never will. I've learned to cope. 

Warning: Major foolishness. Not to be taken seriously. Yeah, I know my name is Grey, but I have a sense of humor, too. Well, sometimes. This is an answer to the white sock challenge. 

Summary: Blair gets caught doing something very naughty, silly boy. 

The Bait  
by Grey 

Blair Sandburg sat on the edge of his bed staring down at his stolen prize. In his hand he held a pair of white socks, Jim's white socks, his too damn gorgeous for his own good sentinel's white socks. Damn, he'd finally lost his mind. How could he explain to himself or anyone else that he got a hard-on just holding another man's footwear? Man, trouble, thy name is Ellison. 

Still alone in the loft, hiding out naked in his room, he unrolled the folded pair. Taking one, he lay the other aside and then leaned back on his bed, one leg up. Pushing his arm inside the cotton tube, he then used his covered hand to wrap his twitching cock. His eyes squeezed shut, he gently let the cloth slide up and down the length. In his mind he imagined Jim touching him with his feet, the socks fiery contact points all over his body. In his fist the cock tightened, growing even harder. Fully focused on his own sensory images, Blair failed to hear the sounds of sentinel arrival in the loft. 

So lost in the terrible mental teasing of his own body with the power of cotton, that he even missed the soft knock at his door. A moment later, a concerned voice called out, "Chief? Are you all right in there?" 

Startled, Blair froze, white mittened hand at his crotch. "Shit." 

"What?" The voice came with the rattling movement of the doorknob. 

"Jim, don't come in. I'm okay. I'm just...don't come in." Panic accented the words along with the movement of springs and clothes being pulled over skin. 

"No problem, Chief. Just so long as you're not sick or something." Jim Ellison smiled to himself and went over to the refrigerator to retrieve a beer while he waited for Blair to join him. As soon as he'd taken a swallow, his young guide came out of his room, eyes wide and skin flushed with arousal. 

"Hey, Chief. What are you doing home in the middle of the day? Brown said you left with a headache." 

Still flustered, Blair went to the couch, easing himself down with care. He hadn't had time to finish his project and having Jim so near didn't help his condition one bit. "No, I'm fine, really. I was just taking a nap, that's all." 

"A nap, Chief? You never take naps. What's going on?" 

"Well, I did have a headache, but it's gone." To other places, he thought to himself. God, Jim stood there so gorgeous, Blair stared as the older man drank his beer. Leaning casually on the counter, Jim had his legs crossed, white socks peeking out from the bottom edge of his jeans. His cock throbbed in approval and frustration. A slight groan escaped before he could stop it. 

"Chief? Have you got a fever? You feel warm even from here." 

You have no idea, Jim. "No, man, I'm just a little tired." 

Frown gone, Jim smiled and tilted his head slightly. "Nap didn't work out, huh? Maybe I should've let you finish." 

Blushing fiercely, Blair shook his head, running a nervous hand through his dark curls. "It was just a nap, Jim. No big deal." 

"Really?" Jim put the bottle down on the counter and moved to the couch. Sitting on the arm rest, he breathed in carefully, trying not to sniff too loudly. "You sure, Chief? Because, frankly, you still look a little tense." 

Breathing faster, heart racing, the younger man started to get up before Jim slipped any closer and discovered his condition. As he started to get up, he found a restricting hand on his chest. "Chief, stay put for a minute. I think we need to talk." 

"Talk? About what? Did something happen at the station while I was gone?" Suddenly his own discomfort dismissed, he refocused on his friend. "Come on, man. Tell me." 

"Well, it's not anything at the station, but it's the strangest thing." 

"What?" 

"It seems like there's this phantom sock thief in the building." 

Gulping dry air, Blair could barely manage not to swallow his own tongue. "Really?" 

"Yeah, I mean, it's like this guy's going around stealing my socks like crazy. I noticed a couple of pairs missing last month, but I thought, well, what the hell, they're just socks, right?" 

"Right, man, just socks." Blair tried desperately to remain still, but just the word from Jim's mouth made his ass hungry, made him want to crawl in his lap and impale himself on his best friend's cock. 

Edging closer, Jim nudged his friend's shoulder and leaned in to whisper. "Yeah, and then this week it got worse. Four pairs, Chief. So, I did a little test." 

"Test?" His heart skipped as Jim's body heat radiated through his own. 

"I put a special scent on a pair I left out hoping that the sock thief would take the bait." 

Clearing his throat, Blair winced as he tried to smile. "That's really clever, Jim. So, what scent did you use?" 

"Would you believe a pearly bit of pre-Jim?" 

A strong hand caressed the back of his neck and fingers entwined his curls. Wet heat suckled at his neck as he moaned, "What?" 

"I thought if this guy has a thing for socks, maybe I'd let him smell me like I can smell him. Glad you took the bait, Chief. Now you're on my line, hooked for good, my little guppy." 

Lips nibbled and gnawed down and around to the small of his throat. Lapping gently, spit slicked the collarbone. A tongue slurped at the fur springing above the top button of his shirt. 

"Oh, man." Head spinning, he let talented hands and mouth do a dance across his chest, nipple one, nipple two, grab your buddy to swing around. 

"Chief?" Jim lips vibrated as he spoke his name into his belly. 

"Yeah, man?" 

"You like my feet?" 

Jim licked and sucked at the navel as he ran a hand down over the bulge straining against metal. Blair arched his hips with a groan. 

Ragged breathing hushed the near whining words. "You want to know now?" 

Unzipping, Jim lifted Blair's ass enough to scoot the pants and underwear off. A cock to beat all cocks of his imagination sprang free inches from his face. "God, Chief. Later. I'm a little busy." 

"Oh, man." Blair gasped and dropped his hands to either side of Jim's face as the older man dived in, taking his guide's dripping cock as his stolen prize. Every muscle drawn tight, ripples of power and spinning flexed his gut. Ass cheeks working, his thighs tensed. Balls drawn up, solar winds washed over skin and flares melted tendons to the bones. Only a few pumps brought on heavenly stillness and spasms that fire-washed his brain of words and phrases. All reason vanished as all his purpose centered at the suction of pleasure inside Jim Ellison's starving and talented mouth. 

The back of his throat ached at the wrench of screaming, "Jesus, James." All his body ached with the delightful torture of discovering that his best friend and sentinel had finally caught him. 

Reality returning, his vision cleared, Blair opened his eyes to stare into the an amused universe of icy blue. Smiling shyly, he reached up and wrapped his arms around Jim's neck. "What, man?" 

"White socks, Chief?" The slight chuckle shook the shoulders. 

"I know, man. I couldn't help it. They're just so...Jim." 

Still smiling, but puzzled, Jim sneaked a quick kiss before he asked, "So Jim? What does that mean, Chief?" 

"You're so perfect, except you wear these so not cool white socks and they make you even more perfect." 

Shaking his head, he settled down and pulled Blair in for a snuggle and a squeeze. The warmth flooded through the younger man's body as he nuzzled his head into Jim's chest. "You're losing me, Chief. How does wearing not so cool white socks make me more perfect?" 

Smiling to himself, hugging the man he loved around the waist, Blair whispered, "Because, man. You don't care that they're not cool. It doesn't matter. Like I said, it's just so Jim that I couldn't help myself." 

Kissing the top of his lover's head, Jim grinned. "You're crazy, Chief. You should've just asked." 

"You would've given me your socks to play with?" 

"No, Blair, I would've given you me." 

Sinking into his destiny's embrace, Blair Sandburg shifted slightly and teased the edge of Jim's gray T-shirt. God, how he loved the way his man wore cotton. 

The End 


End file.
